Tied Up with Strings
by soul of fyre158
Summary: puppet [pupt] n. 1] a small figure, as of a human being, moved by manipulating with the hands, by pulling attached strings 2] a person whose actions, ideas, emotions are controlled by another.
1. Chapter 1

**Tied Up With Strings**

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Summary: Draco Malfoy, like a string puppet, obeys his father. But this time, a certain brunette wanders into his life, throwing everything out of order. Will he continue under his father's control or will he act on his own- for once?

**Chapter 1**

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Author's Note: I have absolutely no earthly (or heavenly for that matter) idea where this came from. This is what the AP Exams can do to you. Take heed.

* * *

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pup-pet (pupt) **_n. _1 **orig., a doll **2 **a small, usually jointed figure, as of a human being, moved, usually in a puppet show on a small stage, by manipulating with the hands, by pulling attached strings or wires, or by rods **3 **a person whose actions, ideas, etc. are controlled by another** 

He stared at the page, as if in a trance. Well, _that_ certainly described him perfectly. So much so that he wondered briefly why he hadn't been named "Pinocchio" instead of "Draco". But then, _dragon_ sounded much more menacing. And he guessed that that was what he was supposed to be. 

He closed the dictionary, coughed from the dust, cursed at the school library, and placed the book back with the others. Turning around, he shoved his hands into the pockets of his robes and leaned back against the wooden shelves. He stared out the window across from him, thoughtfully. 

If he had any time to criticise his father, the first thing he'd say was how much like a circus he ran his household. The way his father played the guests, the servants, and the enemies that came to search the place, one would easily be reminded of a lively show with clowns, jugglers, and trick artists, all of whom were searching for the single purpose of deception**. 

And every circus needed a puppet. 

So that was where _the plan_ originated. 

It really wasn't much of a plan, actually, but it still was a decent one. If he had had a chance to see it before…well, it's not like he could've changed anything anyway. Either way, he'd have the smallest role possible, considering the fact that he'd never apt to anything his father wanted, even if he did become a Death Eater, as he was scheduled to do so by the end of next year. After that, he'd marry and produce an heir. And if that heir- _his_ son- could accomplish all that _he_ was supposed to, then good riddance to him. Draco would be out of the picture without a moment's hesitation. Probably somewhere where he wouldn't interfere, or maybe his father would just hand him off to the Death Eaters to deal with on their own, or maybe he'd just die. Or be killed. An _accident_ was what _the plan_ said. 

But he had to. 

It was for his father, for the family, for the benefit of all Purebloods in the wizarding world. It was in _the plan_. 

Everything was by _the plan_. Everything. How he dressed, what he said, when he married, everything. (Draco wouldn't have been surprised if his father had told him when he was allowed to breathe.) For as long as he could remember, his life had been mapped out to the slightest detail, from where he was born to where he would die. Who he would court, to whom he would marry. 

But once, just once, he'd like to feel what it would be like if he- only he- made a decision, on his own- 

He shook his head, closing his eyes. 

He shouldn't think like that. His father wouldn't like it. 

__

His father wouldn't like it.

"Draco?" 

He turned around sharply, then relaxed. 

"What do you want?" 

Pansy stepped a little closer. She watched him carefully. A few years back, he was convinced that his father had assigned her to be his watchdog; she was always showing up whenever his thoughts wandered. 

"Aren't you coming?" 

"Coming where?" 

"Hogsmeade. Remember?" 

"Oh, of course. Yes, I'm coming." 

"Well, you'd better hurry. We're leaving in a few moments." 

"Yes." 

She cocked her head to one side. 

"You sure you're all right?" 

"For God's sake, Pansy, quit hounding me. _I'm_ _fine_." 

She shrugged. 

"If you say so." She turned and walked away. 

He stared after her. 

Sometimes, he just couldn't figure out that girl. She wasn't like any of the other Slytherins. Sure, she was cocky and sly; she made fun of all the other Houses and was everything else one would expect a Slytherin to be. But she was different as well. Especially when it was just the two of them. She acted like some one else, some one he wasn't familiar with: talking in hushed tones; gaze focused on him but not with the usual hard glare. 

Like she understood him. 

And he wouldn't have been surprised if she did. Her family wasn't as strict as his was, but she too had to follow a written plan, marry and produce an heir like he had to. 

He would court her, if he had the choice. And he didn't mean the school balls and things. Maybe she wasn't as stunning as his future bride, but she could at least think on her feet. She at least dared to defy her parents every now and then. 

He straightened; scowling at the dust that accumulated on the back of his cloak. He hastily wiped it off before following his life out the library door. 

* * *

Hermione Granger picked up her pace, suspicious of the footsteps she heard behind her. Clutching her bag close to her, she closed her book with her other hand and quickly walked through the snake-like corridors. She certain someone was following her. She could feel that person gaining on her. 

She walked faster, meeting the bare minimum of a jog. She turned a corner sharply, looking to her left and then her right. 

She chose a darker hallway, noting the familiar painting on the wall. If she were correct, then this would lead directly to the Main Hall, where the entrance was. That was where she had agreed to meet Harry and Ron. But of course, who knew what the castle was thinking? It was utterly ridiculous to memorise all the twists and turns of the school, for anything, be it a staircase, door, statue, or secret escape, was subject to wander where it wished to wander. This produced nothing but severe headaches and more than mild swearing from travellers, especially if they were about to be late for class, and Hermione suspected that that was the only intent of the castle. 

At the moment, however, she didn't feel much up to pondering why staircases moved. She pretended to be mesmerised by the scenery of the corridors when in fact she was listening for her stalker. Oh, all right, so maybe _stalker _was exaggerating a bit, but with all the dangers that were magnetically attracted to Harry, she had begun to jump at even the slightest noise, convinced that even Mrs Norris, the custodian's cat, was sent by You-Know-Who. This was a very silly idea, for Mrs Norris would never betray her dear owner, Mr. Filch, who in turn would never dream of defying Headmaster Albus Dumbledore, so Hermione had nothing to fear out of either of them save a detention or two. And she was certain that those footsteps did not belong to any cat. 

They had to belong to a human, most likely a teacher, but she doubted that as well. 

So that brought it down to a student. Maybe it was Pansy. She'd knocked into her on the way out of the library as the rude Slytherin was just entering. Perhaps she had followed her to settle their short and heated argument. 

Or maybe- 

She froze, staring at the wall in front of her. 

This couldn't be a dead end. It was impossible- well, it _was_ possible, but saying it wasn't made her feel better. Out of anger, she kicked the wall, stubbing her toe. 

Extremely frustrated and wondering if her friends were still waiting for her, she turned around- and shrieked. 

Draco Malfoy clapped a hand against her mouth. 

"Shut up, Granger, you'll upset them!" he hissed. 

Over his shoulder, she could catch a glimpse of two rusted knights in armour, eyeing them suspiciously. She reached up and yanked his hand away. 

"_Upset them_?" she whispered fiercely. "_You're_ the one who came up behind me like some-," 

"Didn't I tell you to shut up?" he asked. "Let _me_ handle this." 

"I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself!" 

"And that's why you went and got yourself lost during which you managed to wake up two bloody knights who happen to carry swords and a continuos need for revenge?" 

She shut up, satisfying herself with a glare that he gladly returned. 

He turned her back towards her, and she was struck by the fact of how much he had grown since last year. She could barely see any of the action from behind him. 

"You're too tall," she muttered. 

To which he replied: 

"You're vertically challenged so _shut up_!" He pulled out his wand from inside the pocket of his cloak. Pointing it at the knights, he quietly chanted a spell that she was surprised she didn't know and yet he did. The knights became rigid, standing to attention; their steel boots stuck firmly to the floor. He grabbed her by the elbow roughly, shoving her in front of him and pushing her forward. "Hurry up, before it wears off." 

It wasn't until they were a good distance away from the walking tin cans that he let go of her, shaking his arm as if to get rid of any germs. Normally, she would have left right about now, but, under the given circumstances, she had no idea where she was and hoped he did. 

He didn't. 

He scowled, glancing around him for anything familiar. 

"Now look what you've done. We're both lost." 

"What _I've_ done?" she repeated. "_You're_ the one who followed me. I was just fine by myself." 

"Don't be stupid. I had to go after you, despite how much I would have _loved_ to see your demise. However, if you had been killed, Potter and his what's-his-name sidekick would've thrown a fit, and I, naturally, would've been blamed for your own stupid judgement, just for having been close enough. Frankly, I neither wish to be expelled nor do I want to have to suffer from your foolishness. Therefore, it was _I_ who had the undoubtedly irritating task of saving you from yourself. I have a reputation to protect." 

"I could have saved myself from my…from the knights without you. I know just the same spells that you-," 

"Don't make me laugh, Granger." 

She gritted her teeth, forcing herself not to lash out at him. Instead, she asked, 

"Do you where we are?" 

"Of course, I do. What do you take me for?" 

"Lost." 

He paused in his search and glared at her, to which she responded with a knowing smile. 

"Fine then," he replied, forcing the words through his teeth unwillingly, though he quite knew well that she was correct. "Do _you_ know where we are?" 

She lifted her chin, a bit haughtily. 

"_No_." 

He looked as though he was ready to commit a deadly offence, but she interrupted: 

"But I _do_ recognise some of these statues, and, hoping they haven't moved from the last place that I saw them in, we should go that way," she pointed to her left. 

She stalked off in that direction, not looking to see if he followed and not really caring either. 

* * *

Notes: 

*Excerpted from: _Compton's Interactive Encyclopaedia_. Copyright (c) 1994, 1995, 1996 SoftKey Multimedia Inc. All Rights Reserved 

**Clowns are from devil, I swear they are. 

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Author's Note: A very strange beginning, I think, and I understand if you're wondering why you wasted these valuable five minutes of you life, and frankly, I don't blame you. As for the humour…this is all very new to me since I'm usually a huge angst writer and I don't do very good humour or romance so please be kind. Comments with suggestions, requests, corrections (regarding grammar, spelling, or if I misinterpreted something from the books), or plain old "Update!" would be gladly appreciated. Thank you. Take care.

  
  
  
  



	2. Chapter 2

**Tied Up With Strings**

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Summary: Draco Malfoy, like a string puppet, obeys his father. But this time, a certain brunette wanders into his life, throwing everything out of order. Will he continue under his father's control or will he act on his own- for once?**Chapter 2**

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Disclaimer: I forgot about this thing and I'm so glad I remembered for no doubt some ignorant psychopath out there would want to sue me if I didn't. So I want to use this space to hereby dismiss any and all ownership of Harry Potter & Co. However, the book A Theory of Wizardry in Ancient Civilisations_ and it's author,_ Sir Rumfield Rascherstone III,_ belongs to me and no, neither he nor the text exist because I made them up so please do not ask me for a copy of the book or the author's mailing address._

That should do it.

* * *

Draco Malfoy took one look at his surroundings and uttered a cuss word that he had no shame in saying. 

"Where the hell are we?" he demanded from his unwanted companion, who ignored him. 

Instead, Hermione clasped a firm hand onto the railing of the staircase, forcing herself to be patient while it pondered about which direction it should move. Draco, extremely frustrated, tried walking up the stairs. 

"Don't," Hermione warned immediately. "The stairs are moving." 

"Well done, Captain Obvious," he snapped back at her. He nearly lost his footing as the great stone steps suddenly changed its mind and jerked towards the left instead of the right. His hand shot out, grabbing on to the railing. He pretended to ignore her "I told you so" look and gritted his teeth, impatiently. 

The staircase finally reached its new destination happily, and, as an afterthought, threw the two students off their balance and face first into the landing in an act of revenge. Hermione winced as her head made contact with the hard marble floor, then winced again at Draco's _colourful_ vocabulary. She got to her feet, picking up her bag and book. 

"Where's my book?" Draco asked crankily, rubbing his aching shoulder. "Where did you-?" 

She shoved the textbook in front of his face. 

Slightly shocked, he accepted it, then regained his composure and added a glare in her direction. She returned it, backing away to give him room to get up. 

"What are you waiting for?" he asked. 

"_You_, of course, what does it look like?" she crossed her arms, annoyed. "Hurry up." 

"Since when have I bowed to your command?" 

"Since I figured out how to get us out of this mess." 

He shut up, mostly because he couldn't think of comeback to that last statement. Which was true; he had no earthly idea where in the castle they were and he might as well make out his last will and testament now. The school was much too big and much to complicated to figure out an easy passageway out by himself. Of course, he'd rather die on the stairs from a concussion than admit that to anybody, much less a Mudblood like Granger, but the truth was the truth. Just this once, they'd have to compromise a little if either wanted to see daylight again. 

It was quite a long time until he noticed the book she was carrying. It was a brand new copy of the recently published _A Theory of Wizardry in Ancient Civilisations_. 

"Where did you get that?" he blurted out in a tone that actually portrayed his curiosity. 

"Where did I get what?" she repeated absentmindedly glancing around the corridors. 

"That book." 

"This? The library, of course." 

"Which library?" 

"The school library," she paused in her search to throw him a funny look before continuing. 

"_Our_ school library? _That_ pathetic excuse for a house of books?" 

"It so happens that that 'pathetic excuse' receives all the latest books because Professor Dumbledore requested it." 

"I was just at the library and I didn't even see that." 

"_You_? What for?" 

"What else do you do at a library?" 

"You read?" 

"Of course not, Granger. I wait until the holidays when my dear mummy can tuck me into bed and read to me every night." 

She ignored the sarcasm. 

"Why would you be looking for it anyway?" 

"Because Sir Rumfield Rascherstone III happens to be a good author." 

"I know. That's why I checked it out." 

"And why should a Mudblood like you judge a Pureblood author's works?" 

Hermione refused to answer. It had been a good start at a conversation but she knew they'd never get more than a few lines without some comment like that. 

She marched onward, head held high. Then, after hesitating a moment, she asked, 

"So, what _were_ you doing in the library?" 

"Looking up some stuff for those bloody assignments the teachers give," Draco scowled as he recalled McGonagall's most recent and most traumatic twenty-seven-parchment essay. He made a mental note to himself to borrow Pansy's work. 

"For which one?" 

"Why should I tell you?" 

"I'm just trying to strike up a conversation." 

"Why? You aren't scared, are you, Granger?" 

"Of course not!" Hermione glanced uneasily around the dark corridors. 

"Are you sure?" He could have a lot of fun out of this juicy bit of news. "You never know what could be lurking in the hallways…" 

She didn't reply, trying her best to surpass her shudders. 

"Just imagine what that old fool of headmaster keeps hidden in any one of these closets. Any moment, at any time, one of them could snap open and before you even have time to react, something reaches out and-," he grabbed her elbow right then, adding an effect to his scenario. She shrieked, whirled around. 

Her eyes were wide open; his unable to reflect anything of what he was feeling. Carefully, he brought his fingers to his cheek. 

"I don't recall your slap being that hard since the last time, Mudblood," he said coolly. 

"Don't touch me." 

"It was a joke, Granger. Can't you handle that?" 

"Don't touch me. Don't talk to me. Don't look at me." 

"Gladly. It's not like there's much to look at anyway." 

But she had already gone, eager to get away from him. He wouldn't let her out of his sight, not until he could find Pansy or someone else. 

He dropped his gaze to the floor, guiding his body to the sound of her footsteps. Why had he frightened her? Was it because she was so much lower than he was? Or was it just for the moment? 

Why did he do anything that he did? 

Wait- he knew why. It was because of him. His father. No, not just him. His mother, their friends, the death Eaters, the other servants of the Dark Lord. Everyone. They all made him. 

It was not of question of why he did it. It was a question of why he couldn't have done something else. His father really did have him controlled like a string puppet. He was now acting without even thinking. What frightened him the most was the fact that he was acting exactly like what his father would have written in the plan. 

Had it really become that much a part of him? Had it really become his life, the way he talked, acted, and thought? 

What was happening to him? 

He wasn't a human anymore. He was nothing but a toy, a controlled mindless stuffed prize for people to manipulate and fashion into anything they wanted. 

A puppet.

And he was letting them do it. 

He put up no defence. He said nothing in contradiction. He went along with anything and everything. He couldn't even think for himself anymore. His body had become detached from his soul. The physical part was now slave to his father's will, and would be for all eternity. His soul had long since been lost. 

He envied her. Even if she was a Mudblood, a disgusting excuse for a witch. She was allowed to be herself, wasn't she? She could think and do what and when pleased. She could make decisions and act upon them. She could decide what she wanted to do with her life, never mind what others would think. She could fall in love with whomever she chose. 

They all could. They were in control of their own lives. They had that power. That gloriously wonderful gift. That beautifully enticing curse. 

They didn't know how easy they have it. They'll never know. She'll never know. 

He could never relate to them, be like them, learn to live like them. 

But did he really want to? 

It was happening again. 

He stopped, leaned against the wall for support. His anger had blinded him, his mental outburst contaminating his organised thoughts. He dropped his book; his bags hit the ground with a loud echoing thud. 

He heard her voice. 

"Malfoy?" she sounded annoyed. "What are you doing? We aren't stop now. We're almost there. Malfoy?" 

He squeezed his eyes shut tightly, biting his tongue to keep from crying out. He felt like his world was spinning, his hands shaking. He tasted the blood in his mouth, smiling involuntarily from the flavour. 

__

No! he forced himself to think. _No, not this time._

He would not give in. 

"Malfoy? What's the matter with you? Didn't you hear me?" 

__

Get out of the way, Granger… 

"Malfoy, this isn't funny. I _will_ leave without you." 

__

Go! 

"Malfoy?" 

He could already feel his fingers aching for his wand. He grabbed the stone wall to stop them. He could feel his feet sliding away, turning in her direction. He forced them to stop. 

Just let it pass. Don't give in. Don't. 

__

Do you hear me, Father? I'm not giving into you this time. 

"Malfoy?" 

He spun around, his mind losing complete control of his body. His eyes were wide open now. No matter how hard he tried to shut them. His fingers clawed at his face in an attempt to blind his eyes again. But his hands were soon drawn like a magnet to his wand. 

"Malfoy? What are you-?" 

He could feel his body moving towards her, feet sliding on the ground. He tried to stop himself, but that only made his head pound more, the pain increase. In front of him, plastered against the wall, was Hermione. Her brown eyes were huge, face pale, as he came closer. 

"Stop! Stop it! Mal-," 

No- he wasn't going to hurt her. He wasn't. He wouldn't let himself hurt her. Not her. 

He heard the panic in her screams, could feel the panic in his own. 

The magic was pulling him closer to her, wand posed, mouth forced to form the forbidden syllables. 

No! He wouldn't. 

"_A…"_

No! He gritted his teeth, but it was useless. 

"_Ava_…" 

No, not her. Not her! 

He shut his eyes, afraid to see what would happen. His body was once again moving against his will, fingers working by the tugging of strings. The puppeteer was once again controlling his mind. Only his soul was left. 

"Avada…" 

__

NO! 

* * *

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Author's Note: Ha, ha! I leave you in suspense! I know, not as great as the first chapter, but it was my best shot… 


	3. Chapter 3

**Tied Up With Strings**

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Summary: Draco Malfoy, like a string puppet, obeys his father. But this time, a certain brunette wanders into his life, throwing everything out of order. Will he continue under his father's control or will he act on his own- for once? 

****

Chapter 3

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Author's Note: I myself do not know whether this type of fanfic has been done before. If it has, and my fanfic plays any sort of resemblance or anything, I'm very sorry about not being aware of that. I apologise for this, yet I'd like to say that it was entirely coincidental/accidental as I had no idea it's already been done.

Thank you.

* * *

Hermione was staring into his grey eyes, saw something she couldn't explain. It was as though it wasn't even Draco she was looking at. His eyes were wide and determined; she was certain he meant to kill her. But she could see a little bit of something…something else, peeking out from beyond the hollow shadowy orbs in split second intervals. In those moments he looked genuinely fearful, or just plain genuine.

Now she stayed frozen against the wall, the tip of his nose touching hers. His wand was pressed into the base of her neck. He could feel her shaking, then realised he was shaking as well. Neither dared to even breathe.

Minutes, long and torturous, went by. He was panting with sweat dripping down his face. He dropped his wand arm down to his side; the other stayed pressed against the wall by her head a few more seconds, before slipping down as well. He took one small step back. He closed his eyes, head pounding and feeling sick.

Then-

"_Draco!_"

Pansy caught him, just before his body hit the stone floor. She sank to the ground, tucking her feet under her, settling him on her knees. 

"Hermione?" Harry and Ron appeared next to her, so quickly it was as though they had Apparated.

"We heard someone screaming," Ron explained, gaze flickering to the unconscious student. He fingered his wand, glaring at the boy. "What happened? Did he hurt you?"

"You okay?" Harry asked softly. He placed a hand on her shoulder, gently forcing her to calm her nerves. She didn't answer either of them; her stare focused on Draco.

He was lying in Pansy's lap, out cold. His arms hung limp, wand for the moment forgotten on the stone floor. A thin trickle of blood ran from the corner of his mouth down the side of his chin. Pansy held him close to her, moving him slightly in toward her so his head rested against her chest. She glared at Hermione.

"What the hell did you do to him, Granger?"

"The question is what _he_ did to _her_," Ron snapped back immediately. "I _swear_, if he laid one finger-,"

"He's the one knocked unconscious!" Pansy cried in outrage. "He could be seriously hurt! Do you know what kind of trouble you all will get in for attacking a student?"

"Attacking!" Ron exclaimed. "_Attacking_! You're one to talk about that! You and your kind-,"

"Draco didn't do anything!"

"He deserved what he got!"

Pansy let go of Draco abruptly, causing his head to fall back, and reached for her wand. Ron already had his out.

"Don't," Harry interrupted, grabbing on to the sleeve of his best friend's cloak. 

"Let go, Harry!" the redhead snarled, gritting his teeth.

"Ron, stop it. Think of Hermione."

Ron paused then, shifting his hard gaze to the girl behind him. 

Hermione was still stuck in the same position along the wall. Her face was a deadly pale, large brown eyes wide open. Her mouth was trying to form a word, but she couldn't get herself to speak. She was staring at Draco's still form, still in shock, then turned to look at Ron. Carefully, she shook her head.

He lowered his hand.

"Potter!" Professor McGonagall entered the now silent scene. "Just what is going on here?"

"Professor-," 

Pansy cut Harry short with her shrill voice.

"Look what they've done to Draco! He's hurt!"

McGonagall took the situation quite well, considering the circumstances. 

"Get him to the Infirmary immediately," she ordered. "Have Madame Pomfrey give the both of them some potions and let them stay the night. Potter, a word, if you would."

Harry nodded, wondering if McGonagall really did think they had attacked Draco and hoping he wasn't about to get in trouble.

The teacher waited until the other four had disappeared from view before settling her eyes on Harry.

"Mr. Potter, I assume you had nothing to do with this?"

"We- Ron and me- heard someone screaming, Professor. We came to see who it was, and we found Hermione standing there, with Malfoy on the floor in Pansy's lap. Then you came. That's all, Professor, I swear that's the truth-,"

"Calm down, Potter, I'm not accusing you of anything," she waved his nervousness away. "Are you sure that's it?"

"Yes, positive. I don't know anything else, but if you'd let me talk to 'Mione, I might figure out what happened."

"Do so if you think you can benefit from it, Potter, but you needn't inform me of it. I've heard enough." With that, she turned on her heel and walked away. He watched her leave, pondering over what she could have meant by that. He shrugged it away, then hurried in the direction of the Infirmary. 

* * *

Hermione pushed back the bed sheets and climbed in.

"You guys can come in now," she said, settling herself comfortably in the bed. She felt fine, now that she'd got out of her shock with a good dose of chocolate. But she still couldn't shake off that funny feeling she had in the pit of her stomach.

Harry and Ron appeared from behind the curtains, both watching her with great concern.

"You sure you're all right?" Harry asked, not willing to believe her for a second.

"Yes, of course I'm fine. I don't know why Madame Pomfrey wants me to spend the night, since I feel much better thanks to that chocolate." She smiled up at them. "Nothing like a god bit of candy, right?"

They stared at her as though she was some sort of mutated fish-woman.

"You're too happy," Ron observed. "Perhaps you've had more sugar than you ought to."

"I'm just fine," she lied. "Stop fretting, will you?"

"Can't, sorry," Harry sat down on the edge of her bed while Ron took the chair. 

"Are you going to tell us what happened or not?" Ron leaned forward, resting his chin in his palm, elbow propped up on his knee. He cocked his head to one side, eyebrow raised. "Surely you don't expect us to just forget about it all?"

"Sometimes I wish you would," Hermione admitted, though secretly a little happy to have friends that were that concerned about her. "Oh, all right. I was coming back from the library and was heading up to meet you two so we could go to Hogsmeade. Oh-! I almost forgot! We can't go, now can we-?"

"Never mind the bloody village," Ron waved it away impatiently. 

"Yeah," Harry grinned. "Don't think you can get away with trying to change the subject."

"I wasn't! But, anyway, moving on-,"

"Please," Ron murmured.

"Do you want me to finish or not?"

"It was a joke! Go on."

"As I was saying, I was going to meet you when the doors and everything began changing and I got lost."

"Ah, I see. You didn't have _Hogwarts, A History_ with you then, did you?"

"Ron!"

"I'm kidding, I'm kidding."

"And so, I ended up waking up these two knights that were…a little cranky. But then Malfoy showed up, waved his wand around, and froze the knights so the both of us could get out without being sliced up."

"_Malfoy_ did that?"

"Stop commenting! Honestly, why aren't _you_ the sports commentator for the Quidditch matches? You'd give Lee Jordan a run for his money."

"I know," Ron looked rather proud.

Harry rolled his eyes.

"Can we please get back on track?"

"Harry's right, Ron, so be quiet and listen to me. Right, anyway, between the two of us we ended up getting more lost than before. I was about to find a way to get us back on the right course when Malfoy went all psychotic and tried to kill me."

Ron shook his head; his eyes lost the usual playful teasing look.

"He didn't touch you, did he?"

"No, nothing like that. It was really weird; I can barely explain it. It was like…like he was trying to stop himself from doing what he was supposed to do, but couldn't. Of course, in the end, he managed to stop and knocked himself out in the process, but still…"

"Is that all?" Harry asked.

"That's it."

He frowned.

"What do you suppose was wrong with him?"

"I don't know. I still can't understand why he tried to attack me in the first place. It was just sort of out of the blue."

"Who knows what the idiot is thinking?" Ron pointed out. "Was probably just taking advantage of the situation by trying to kill you. Bloody Slytherins…"

"Well, we'll let you alone now," Harry stood.

"Yeah, and don't worry, 'Mione. We'll keep a look out."

"Get some rest, okay?"

"I won't if you two don't quit yacking and leave."

Ron held up his hands in defence and backed away.

"You need your space, we understand. The whole monthly woman thing."

"_Ron!_"

"Mr. Weasley! Mr. Potter!" Madame Pomfrey's disapproving voice barked at them.

"That's our que," Harry interrupted hastily, grabbing Ron by the back of the cloak and waving good-bye as he dragged his friend out with him.

Hermione waved, laughing. The nurse poked her head inside the curtains and watched her suspiciously. She shook her head.

"You need female friends your own age," Madame Pomfrey advised. "Boys are nothing but desperate, disillusioned trouble. _Especially_ at sixteen."

Hermione nodded, pretending to agree until the woman left. Perhaps she did need to spend more time with Lavender or Parvathi or Ginny. But really, she liked it best when she was with Harry and Ron. There was just something there…

Like there was something in Malfoy's eyes. 

What was it? What had she seen? Fear? Malice? She didn't know and probably never would.

She lay down, pulling the bed sheets up to her chin. Still, at that moment, he looked different. Very different. As though he had lost a part of him- and found something more.

* * *

Draco groggily opened his eyes, squinting. He was lying on one of the beds in the hospital wing, the cold sheets neatly spread over his body. He tried to move one hand up to his throbbing forehead, but found that the sheets had been tucked in so tightly he could barely breathe.

Pansy.

Of course. She always did this. If he wasn't feeling well, she'd take care of him in the dorms, even if she wasn't allowed in. He always remembered the touch of her hand on his cheek, brushing away his bangs when he fell asleep after an especially exhausting trial.

A small smile slipped onto his face uninvited, then quickly disappeared.

He tugged at the covers until they finally gave way and sat up. He was by himself, the curtains drawn. The lights were dim and the castle silent. His head was still pounding as though someone was hitting him with a hammer. He closed his eyes, bringing his hand to face. He winced as he accidentally brushed his fingers on his tender mouth, still raw from when he had bitten his tongue.

Then he remembered what happened. 

He scowled (then winced), recalling the events that led up to the situation. Thanks to the idiotic Granger, he could barely move his mouth, and probably wouldn't be able to think straight for a while.

That had been the worst one so far. He didn't remember his entire body hurting as much as it did now. But then, all the other times he hadn't-

His eyes widened. 

He'd stopped himself.

He hadn't hurt her. He made himself stop. He forced himself in control.

Then that would mean…Could he actually do things on his own? Defy his father's commands? And have it feel this good?

Well, he didn't actually feel _good_ so to speak; rotten was the better choice. But he felt something… 

Why did he stop himself? If he hadn't, there would be one less Mudblood to foul the plans of pure wizarding world. If he hadn't, it would have meant recognition from the Death eaters, his father. If he hadn't, he would be siting in Azkaban, waiting for his father to bail him out.

He didn't especially long for the empty, demoralising cells of the infamous wizarding prison. Maybe that was why he had stopped.

Or maybe it was something else.

Draco peered through the curtains, caught sight of Hermione, sleeping a few feet away. He watched her, feeling something funny inside of him.

The strings. The puppet strings. They were coming undone.

Or were they?

* * *

__

Author's Note: I don't know if I should go on or do something else. I really can't think of another single thing to add to this fanfic…

So I guess this is all…


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